And when the south wind blew softly, supposing that they had obtained
their purpose, loosing thence, they sailed close by Crete. 14. But not
long after there arose against it a tempestuous wind, called
Euroclydon. 15. And when the ship was caught, and could not bear up
into the wind, we let her drive. 16. And running under a certain island
which is called Clauda, we had much work to come by the boat: 17. Which
when they had taken up, they used helps, undergirding the ship; and,
fearing lest they should fall into the quicksands, strake sail, and so
were driven. 18. And we being exceedingly tossed with a tempest, the
next day they lightened the ship; 19. And the third day we cast out
with our own hands the tackling of the ship. 20. And when neither sun
nor stars in many days appeared, and no small tempest lay on us, all
hope that we should be saved was then taken away. 21. But after long
abstinence Paul stood forth in the midst of them, and said, Sirs, ye
should have hearkened unto me, and not have loosed from Crete, and to
have gained this harm and loss. 22. And now I exhort you to be of good
cheer: for there shall be no loss of any man's life among you, but of
the ship. 23. For there stood by me this night the angel of God, whose
I am, and whom I serve, 24. Saying, Fear not, Paul; thou must be
brought before Caesar: and, lo, God hath given thee all them that sail
with thee. 25. Wherefore, sirs, be of good cheer: for I believe God,
that it shall be even as it was told me. 26. Howbeit we must be cast
upon a certain island.'--ACTS xxvii. 13-26.
Luke's minute account of the shipwreck implies that he was not a Jew.
His interest in the sea and familiarity with sailors' terms are quite
unlike a persistent Jewish characteristic which still continues. We
have a Jew's description of a storm at sea in the Book of Jonah, which
is as evidently the work of a landsman as Luke's is of one who, though
not a sailor, was well up in maritime matters. His narrative lays hold
of the essential points, and is as accurate as it is vivid. This
section has two parts: the account of the storm, and the grand example
of calm trust and cheery encouragement given in Paul's words.
I. The consultation between the captain of the vessel and the
centurion, at which Paul assisted, strikes us, with our modern notions
of a captain's despotic power on his own deck, and single
responsibility, as unnatural. But the centurion, as a military officer,
was superior to the captain of an Alexandrian corn-ship, and Paul had
already made his force of character so felt that it is not wonderful
that he took part in the discussion. Naturally the centurion was guided
by the professional rather than by the amateur member of the council,
and the decision was come to to push on as far and fast as possible.
The ship was lying in a port which gave scanty protection against the
winter weather, and it was clearly wise to reach a more secure harbour
if possible. So when a gentle southerly breeze sprang up, which would
enable them to make such a port, westward from their then position,
they made the attempt. For a time it looked as if they would succeed,
but they had a great headland jutting out in front which they must get
round, and their ability to do this was doubtful. So they kept close in
shore and weathered the point. But before they had made their harbour
the wind suddenly chopped round, as is frequent of that coast, and the
gentle southerly breeze turned into a fierce squall from the north-east
or thereabouts, sweeping down from the Cretan mountains. That began
their troubles. To make the port was impossible. The unwieldy vessel
could not 'face the wind,' and so they had to run before it. It would
carry them in a south-westerly direction, and towards a small island,
under the lee of which they might hope for some shelter. Here they had
a little breathing time, and could make things rather more ship-shape
than they had been able to do when suddenly caught by the squall. Their
boat had been towing behind them, and had to be hoisted on deck somehow.
A more important, and probably more difficult, task was to get strong
hawsers under the keel and round the sides, so as to help to hold the
timbers together. The third thing was the most important of all, and
has been misunderstood by commentators who knew more about Greek
lexicons than ships. The most likely explanation of 'lowering the gear'
(Rev. Ver.) is that it means 'leaving up just enough of sail to keep
the ship's head to the wind, and bringing down everything else that
could be got down' (Ramsay, _St. Paul_, p. 329).
Note that Luke says 'we' about hauling in the boat, and 'they' about
the other tasks. He and the other passengers could lend a hand in the
former, but not in the latter, which required more skilled labour. The
reason for bringing down all needless top-hamper, and leaving up a
little sail, was to keep the vessel from driving on to the great
quicksands off the African coast, to which they would certainly have
been carried if the wind held.
As soon as they had drifted out from the lee of the friendly little
island they were caught again in the storm. They were in danger of
going down. As they drifted they had their 'starboard' broadside to the
force of the wild sea, and it was a question how long the vessel's
sides would last before they were stove in by the hammering of the
waves, or how long she would be buoyant enough to ship seas without
foundering. The only chance was to lighten her, so first the crew
'jettisoned' the cargo, and next day, as that did not give relief
enough,'they,' or, according to some authorities, 'we'--that is
passengers and all--threw everything possible overboard.
That was the last attempt to save themselves, and after it there was
nothing to do but to wait the apparently inevitable hour when they
would all go down together. Idleness feeds despair, and despair
nourishes idleness. Food was scarce, cooking it was impossible,
appetite there was none. The doomed men spent the long idle days--which
were scarcely day, so thick was the air with mist and foam and
tempest--crouching anywhere for shelter, wet, tired, hungry, and
hopeless. So they drifted 'for many days,' almost losing count of the
length of time they had been thus. It was a gloomy company, but there
was one man there in whom the lamp of hope burned when it had gone out
in all others. Sun and stars were hidden, but Paul saw a better light,
and his sky was clear and calm.
II. A common danger makes short work of distinctions of rank. In such a
time some hitherto unnoticed man of prompt decision, resource, and
confidence, will take the command, whatever his position. Hope, as well
as timidity and fear, is infectious, and one cheery voice will revive
the drooping spirits of a multitude. Paul had already established his
personal ascendency in that motley company of Roman soldiers,
prisoners, sailors, and disciples. Now he stands forward with calm
confidence, and infuses new hope into them all. What a miraculous
change passes on externals when faith looks at them! The circumstances
were the same as they had been for many days. The wind was howling and
the waves pounding as before, the sky was black with tempest, and no
sign of help was in sight, but Paul spoke, and all was changed, and a
ray of sunshine fell on the wild waters that beat on the doomed vessel.
Three points are conspicuous in his strong tonic words. First, there is
the confident assurance of safety. A less noble nature would have said
more in vindication of the wisdom of his former advice. It is very
pleasant to small minds to say, 'Did I not tell you so? You see how
right I was.' But the Apostle did not care for petty triumphs of that
sort. A smaller man might have sulked because his advice had not been
taken, and have said to himself, 'They would not listen to me before, I
will hold my tongue now.' But the Apostle only refers to his former
counsel and its confirmation in order to induce acceptance of his
present words.
It is easy to 'bid' men 'be of good cheer,' but futile unless some
reason for good cheer is given. Paul gave good reason. No man's life
was to be lost though the ship was to go. He had previously predicted
that life, as well as ship and lading, would be lost if they put to
sea. That opinion was the result of his own calculation of
probabilities, as he lets us understand by saying that he 'perceived'
it (ver. 10). Now he speaks with authority, not from his perception,
but from God's assurance. The bold words might well seem folly to the
despairing crew as they caught them amidst the roar of tempest and
looked at their battered hulk. So Paul goes at once to tell the ground
of his confidence--the assurance of the angel of God.
What a contrast between the furious gale, the almost foundering ship,
the despair in the hearts of the sleeping company, and the bright
vision that came to Paul! Peter in prison, Paul in Caesarea and now in
the storm, see the angel form calm and radiant. God's messengers are
wont to come into the darkest of our hours and the wildest of our
tempests.
Paul's designation of the heavenly messenger as 'an angel of the God
whose I am, whom also I serve,' recalls Jonah's confession of faith,
but far surpasses it, in the sense of belonging to God, and in the
ardour of submission and of active obedience, expressed in it. What
Paul said to the Corinthians (1 Cor. vi. 19) he realised for himself:
'Ye are not your own; for ye were bought with a price.' To recognise
that we are God's, joyfully to yield ourselves to Him, and with all the
forces of our natures to serve Him, is to bring His angel to our sides
in every hour of tempest and peril, and to receive assurance that
nothing shall by any means harm us. To yield ourselves to be God's is
to make God ours. It was because Paul owned that he belonged to God,
and served Him, that the angel came to him, and he explains the vision
to his hearers by his relation to God. Anything was possible rather
than that his God should leave him unhelped at such an hour of need.
The angel's message must have included particulars unnoticed in Luke's
summary; as, for instance, the wreck on 'a certain island.' But the two
salient points in it are the certainty of Paul's own preservation, that
the divine purpose of his appearing before Caesar might be fulfilled,
and the escape of all the ship's company. As to the former, we may
learn how Paul's life, like every man's, is shaped according to a
divine plan, and how we are 'immortal till our work is done,' and till
God has done His work in and on and by us. As to the latter point, we
may gather from the word 'has _given_' the certainty that Paul had been
praying for the lives of all that sailed with him, and may learn, not
only that the prayers of God's servants are a real element in
determining God's dealings with men, but that a true servant of God's
will ever reach out his desires and widen his prayers to embrace those
with whom he is brought into contact, be they heathens, persecutors,
rough and careless, or fellow-believers. If Christian people more
faithfully discharged the duty of intercession, they would more
frequently receive in answer the lives of 'all them that sail with'
them over the stormy ocean of life.
The third point in the Apostle's encouraging speech is the example of
his own faith, which is likewise an exhortation to the hearers to
exercise the same. If God speaks by His angel with such firm promises,
man's plain wisdom is to grasp the divine assurance with a firm hand.
We must build rock upon rock. 'I believe God,' that surely is a
credence demanded by common sense and warranted by the sanest reason.
If we do so believe, and take His word as the infallible authority
revealing present duty and future blessings, then, however lowering the
sky, and wild the water, and battered the vessel, and empty of earthly
succour the gloomy horizon, and heavy our hearts, we shall 'be of good
cheer,' and in due time the event will warrant our faith in God and His
promise, even though all around us seems to make our faith folly and
our hope a mockery.